The Long Walk
by The RyRy
Summary: A meeting on the bridge to Esthar and a questioning of ideals. Who have we all become, and what will we make of ourselves?


_Author's Note: This is a fic for Reunion as part of the Fanfic for Charity drive to benefit organizations assisting the survivors of Hurricane Katrina. An Edea-centric fic was requested, and I hope it fits the bill. Thank you!_

**The Long Walk**

It was a long walk to Esthar.

Zell and I were supposed to be Edea's escort… no, _Matron_'s escort. She had to see Dr. Odine, and somehow I knew we would find Squall along the way. I wondered what the real reason was for my agreement to go on this journey. I knew why Zell was going – that was what he did, volunteering for any mission that came to him so he could prove himself in Squall's eyes. But why had I come?

Was it for the same reason?

The whole way, Edea, _Matron_, walked in front of me. She walked with a calm, stately grace that made it look like her dress's extensions were there to balance her perfectly. I wondered what would happen if she were to shed that fan of adornments. Would she fall over forwards… or did they make a difference at all?

Had I really just fought her not too long ago? It felt like years, but I knew it had only been days. She seemed like an entirely different person. I wondered how I could have ever taken my whip to her. I suppose that's what all these years of SeeD training have bought me. I can't have my teaching license, but at least I can still be a SeeD.

Thoughts like those make me abhor who I've become. I remember Matron now, from my most buried and nearly-forgotten memories, and was this the price I paid? This beautiful woman could have died under my fingertips, and I didn't care.

But I cared now.

I heard Zell say he's spotted something, and then saw where Irvine and Selphie were waving from the distance. They'd found an old train station, and I knew we must have been going the right way. It was eerie how Esthar should be so gigantic from all the stories I've heard, and yet it was nowhere to be found.

Squall should be arriving soon, Zell said. I nodded. The mental image of Squall carrying Rinoa on his back across these endless miles of railroad track crossed through my mind. I didn't know whether to smile or cry.

I bit my lip because of Matron. She settled down, sitting on an old cement block and unfolding her dress from underneath her knees. Every movement was fluid, each finger motion precisely placed. She is a Sorceress, I reminded myself. She is my enemy, I thought.

Black and white fade to gray so easily when you take off the tinted glasses. This is what SeeD hasn't taught any of us – how to judge right and wrong when the subject is somewhere in between. According to SeeD, there are defined rights and defined wrongs and we never questioned any of it. There, on the bridge to Esthar, I found myself questioning.

I couldn't stand to look at Edea anymore. She threw off my balance, being somewhere in between the extremes that I had settled myself so comfortably in. I excused myself and walked out of the train station to look at the water. After a moment, Zell joined me. For once, he said nothing.

What was there to say? Was Zell feeling the same things I was? I never did find out; before I could say anything, I heard the shuffling of footsteps. Squall… carrying Rinoa, just as I had imagined.

You're late, I say to him. Inane conversation follows, along with Squall's usual reluctance to say anything. It went all as planned, all according to the script that defined any interaction with Squall. I was so used to it that I could predict what sort of thing he would say. I prided myself on that, but right then on that bridge, I wondered if it was something to be proud of at all. I never could break his pattern. I never could figure out how to change the script. Rinoa did all those things, and that was why she was the one Squall cared for.

And now, she was asleep. No, not asleep, but not dead either. Somewhere in between, another gray between the black and the white. Another variable in the script.

And then there was Edea. She walked in with a grace that I knew I could never muster, and faced Squall like he wasn't carrying a girl on his back. Watching them was like watching a pair of dancers going through a routine in their minds without moving their bodies. Everything was so graceful, and nothing about it was scripted.

They taught us ballroom dancing in Balamb Garden. I learned it, Zell learned it, Squall learned it – everybody did. Did Edea learn it? Was she the one who said to the Headmaster that he must teach the SeeDs ballroom dancing, so that there could be interactions like this?

Squall regarded her with coolness, the way he acts towards everybody… except Rinoa, that is. She broke his chain of ice that bound him to other people. I wonder what the chain that binds Squall and Rinoa is made of. Perhaps it is thin, strong nylon; or maybe it's woven thick fibers; or is it made of ribbons that could be cut with the flick of a knife?

What binds any of us to Edea anymore? Once, we were all held by strong velvet cords of pseudo-motherhood, but now all of that is different. We all tried to kill her, and that didn't change simply because we thought we were doing the right thing. There was no right thing, in this case. Did she cry when she realized that it was her children before her with weapons and bloodthirsty eyes? Did she even flinch?

Let's go to Esthar, Squall said. Yes, that was what we were here for, wasn't it? To get to Esthar, to get Edea back to being the Matron that we all knew, that was our purpose. I had to try to force myself to see everything in black and white again so that I could make my decisions and _remember _them.

I had to stick to my script and play my part; and so, I followed Squall and Rinoa, Edea and Matron, to Esthar. I vowed to myself on that bridge that I would stay with them no matter what; I was growing rather fond of those shades of gray.


End file.
